


Harshly

by vergilia_43



Category: Ancient History RPF, Ancient Rome - Fandom, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Historical RPF, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Foreplay, Grinding, Hickeys, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Relationship, Lesbian Sex, Pillow Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Top!Cassius, as far as sex goes it’s not too graphic, bottom!brutus, fem!brutus, fem!cassius, sub!brutus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vergilia_43/pseuds/vergilia_43
Summary: “Cassius had no compunctions about holding Brutus’s wrists down to the straw mattress and straddling her the moment they were alone in Brutus’s tent, as they were now.”Or, Brutus and Cassius are lesbians doing it in a tent.
Relationships: Marcus Junius Brutus the Younger/Gaius Cassius Longinus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Harshly

Compared to Portia’s gentle curves, Brutus absolutely delighted in Cassius’s sharp edges. It wasn’t so much that Cassius was bony, or uncomfortable to be underneath— gods knew Brutus wouldn’t enjoy seeing Cassius pant and sweat on top of her as much if she could comprehend pleasureless pain when they fucked, her sex-addled brain was always so far from its usual order. But Cassius was rough in all the ways that Brutus needed. Brutus could buck her hips up against Cassius’s without feeling her back down at all. And Cassius had no compunctions about holding her wrists down to the straw mattress and straddling her the moment they were alone in Brutus’s tent, as they were now.

Brutus whimpered with the pain of her arousal. “Don’t make a sound,” Cassius whispered, pressing her hand to Brutus’s hungry mouth. “They think we’re discussing strategy.” Brutus could only grin under Cassius’s damp palm— Cassius must have already been sweaty when they left the meeting. 

Even now, Brutus thought, even with her hair matted to her forehead and her lips ajar as she undid the pins of Brutus’s shawl— Cassius was beautiful. Cassius met Brutus’s wide, adoring eyes for half a moment before letting herself sink down to unwind and throw off Brutus’s stola. Finally, with a little help from Brutus herself, the stola hit the floor and Brutus was naked underneath a disheveled, but otherwise entirely dressed Cassius. 

Brutus may have enjoyed seeing Cassius below her, but she _loved_ seeing Cassius above her. When Cassius came back up, resting on her elbows over her, she felt blood flush her clit even more intensely than before. Cassius was panting.

“You can’t be tired already,” Brutus teased, and felt Cassius’s scornful exhale on her exposed breasts. 

“Never. Just... give me a sec,” Cassius admitted. Cassius’s legs were tense between Brutus’s, pounding with excitement of being so close to her— or was that Brutus’s heart, yearning for Cassius to fuck her?

Thankfully, Brutus still had enough self-control not to say this out loud. “Of course,” she said lowly. She wouldn’t ask anything more of her beautiful— lover? coworker? Gods, what the hell were they?

Brutus decided to frame her confusion as a joke. “When our dear late Caesar asked the senators to be on more intimate terms with each other,” she said, “I don’t know that _this_ is what she meant.”

Cassius barked her usual, lovely laugh. Harsh in all the right places, just like Cassius herself. Brutus had barely caught her own breath when the sound of Cassius (or maybe it was simply feeling her heavy body move on top of her again) made her convulse with laughter too. 

Their soft breasts met as Cassius lowered herself slightly. Now Brutus was painfully aware of Cassius’s every motion. Cassius could move however she wanted on top of her, and Brutus could only lie there in tremendous pleasure; a willing canvas for Cassius’s paint. No, more than willing; hungry for Cassius. 

And now she was aware, too, of Cassius’s balled fists on either side of her head, and without a second thought because no one could deliberate at a time like this, not even Marcus Junius Brutus, Brutus took one fist and led it to her hair. Cassius understood without saying a word. She flattened herself completely against Brutus (and Brutus was taking in all the contours of her body, dear gods, the smooth and the rough, together in primal ecstasy) and yanked at Brutus’s hair.

But the pain on her scalp only enhanced the pleasure of Cassius’s resumed grinding on her hips, on her clit. Brutus could only push her head back into the mattress as Cassius’s motions grew stronger and heavier. Eyes closed. Bodies tensed. Brutus opened her mouth to howl, but Cassius covered it quickly with a rough hand. 

When Cassius rammed into her again, Brutus’s muffled whimper was nothing compared to Cassius’s moan.

“Some strategy,” Brutus said minutes later, still sweaty and aroused but satisfied. She clung to Cassius. Cassius’s heart was pounding, too. 

“Mmm. Fuck off.” Cassius stretched herself out languidly. Brutus took the opportunity to drag a single finger down between her breasts, all the way to her pussy. She smiled when Cassius gasped for air. “You little shit—“ Cassius began. 

“You’re not as tough as you pretend to be, hm?” if Brutus stoked her flames enough, there was a chance that round two could happen. (Cassius only rarely didn’t end an outburst of anger with a rough fucking.)

“Ohhh gods. Just say you want it, Brutus.”

“Want what?” She feigned innocence, even bit her lip. “Certainly not you?”

“Say you want me.”

Brutus scoffed, just to incense her. Cassius responded by turning over and pushing Brutus’s shoulders into the mattress. “Don’t be fucking coy with me,” Cassius hissed. 

“I’m not being coy.”

“Yes you fucking are.” And Cassius pressed her lips against Brutus’s again, harsh and delicious. Oh gods, Cassius could kiss, but she was so much better at sucking and biting and marking Brutus for her own. She trailed her bites down Brutus’s arching neck, sucked her sensitive nipples, and licked between her aching breasts, dragging each stop down to Brutus’s dripping pussy as long as it could possibly go. 

Finally, Brutus couldn’t take anymore. She pulled Cassius back down to her lips, and sunk her nails into Cassius’s back, forcing their hips together for more of that friction, that movement that Brutus sorely needed. Their eyes met again as Cassius ground down harshly once more on Brutus— _finally_ , Brutus thought— in preparation for another ride on Rome’s most honorable senator.


End file.
